The Tenant at 221A
by superwholockocs
Summary: Sherlock encounters a criminal living in the flat downstairs. But the criminal isn't your run of the mill average joe. No in fact the criminal is a girl. And when John invites her over to dinner Sherlock has to expose her without sounding like a rude host. Can he do it or will he only make John upset? I own none of the characters except Aria Vancooper and her cat Smog.
1. PART 1

There is a tenant at 221a Baker Street. She shows up rarely and stays short. In the whole time John and Sherlock have been in 221b they have each met her only twice but seen her a few more times then that.

Once when getting home late from a case they watched her stumble into her apartment. That was the first time they laid eyes on her. The second time was during an intensive thunderstorm, they watched her slowly make her way inside, drenched.  
>They didn't talk to her until John accidentally bumped into her on his way out of the house.<br>"Oh! Sorry, sorry." He had exclaimed.  
>Her handful of papers had scattered, which she had immediately started to retrieve.<br>"Fine, it's fine." She muttered.  
>He bent down to help but she insisted she had it so he moved along. He found it curious that she didn't want any help but soon forgot the encounter entirely. It wasn't until a month later when Ms Hudson had spent the day scurrying around their flat in annoyance, that John remembered.<p>

"MRS HUDSON! If you'd_ please_ keep your mumbling to a minimum that would be most helpful." Sherlock barked.  
>"Sorry, dear, sorry!" She responded.<br>John, being the more considerate of the two detectives, preceded to ask Mrs Hudson what seemed to be the matter.  
>"Oh, it seems Aria will be late tonight so I will have to open her flat up myself."<br>"Aria?" John inquired.  
>Sherlock made an exasperated noise, "yes John, obviously. Aria Vancooper is the woman who occupies, or more accurately sometimes occupies, 221a Baker Street."<br>John nodded a bit as he remembered his meeting of her about a month earlier.  
>"We should invite her over for dinner." He stated out of nowhere.<br>Sherlock didn't answer for a long time and Mrs Hudson kept quiet..at least until Sherlock did answer.  
>"Why?"<br>"I think that's a lovely idea!"  
>The two statements were exclaimed at the same time but both were heard clearly.<br>"Because Sherlock it's polite to get to know our neighbors." John said.  
>Sherlock thought about that answer with a quizzical look on his face before he went back to looking into his microscope.<br>"So? Sherlock?"  
>"Yes? Fine, fine." He replied not looking up.<br>Mrs Hutson sounded delighted by their decision and even said she'd be willing to clean their flat for them. Everything was in place, except for, of course, the guest. Whom would be arriving at her own flat late that night. John had decided to invite her for dinner the following day, so not to bother her when she got in. Sherlock, on the other hand, had decided to completely forget the engagement.


	2. PART 2

Aria got in at 3am. She had meant to get in earlier but..something came up she couldn't put off. Clumsily she opened the door to the building then fumbled for her keys to open her flat. The whole affair took a good ten minutes. She was terribly tired and couldn't care less about how loud she was being (which was quite loud).  
>When she finally got into her flat the first thing she did was drop her duffle bag on the kitchen table. The table, however, was already full of papers and other duffle bags, so it had other ideas. The bag quickly fell off the table with a loud crash which would have made Aria jump if she weren't so tired. Instead she only winced and prayed it didn't wake anyone up.<br>For a long time she just stood there and stared at the overturn duffle-bag and inhaling the old smell of her flat: musty with a mix of drying paint. She was so wrapped up in thought that she almost didn't hear the small knock on her door.  
>She snapped out of it and looked over at the door. Had she imagined it? Maybe if she waits long enough the person will go away.<br>The someone knocked again, this time louder. With a sigh she walked over to the door and opened it, hoping all the way it wasn't mrs Hutson coming to give her a good chewing out.  
>To her happy surprise it wasn't. It was a tall man with dark hair and light eyes.<br>"Hello?" She whispered.  
>"Ah yes, good morning." He replied, "I'm from the flat upstairs and I just..."<br>He stopped talking and tried to peer into her room. Instinctively she tried to close the door even more.  
>"Yes?" She asked.<br>"I just wanted," he seemed distracted now, "wanted, to talk."  
>With a roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh she opened the door for him as a way to say 'well then, come in if you <em>must<em>'. Without missing a beat he made his way to the center of the room and turned on the spot.  
>"Yes, now." He seemed to be saying to himself while looking over the room intensively.<br>Aria took this chance to get a good look at him. He was thin and had a thin face. His air about him was haughty but not mean. He seemed...  
>"Alright then where were we?" He asked bringing her back to her flat.<br>"I don't know where you were but I was just about to ask you why you were here." She asked a little too coldly then she meant to.  
>"Right! I just have a few basic questions about you. Who you are, where you're from, what you do, you know..." He talked rather quickly with a sort of draw at the end.<br>"Why?"  
>"Just doing, a..check up. That's all nothing to worry about." He insisted.<br>"You think that after you have invited yourself in, at three in the morning mind you, that I'm now just going to let you question me?" Aria challenged.  
>Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering, "well, since your kitchen seems to be full of confidential items and the walls of your flat have been written on and painted over multiple times...I'm thinking that no, you would rather not share your life history with me."<br>Aria blinked.  
>"You're that detective I've read about in the paper. Sher..Sherlock. Yeah that's it."<br>"Ugh, yes that's me." Sherlock replied obviously unimpressed by her mini deduction.  
>"Fantastic. I'm living downstairs from a super-detective." Aria grumbled to herself.<br>There was an awkward silence after that before the girl broke it.  
>"Anyway, why are you here again?" Hostility bled into her voice. She did that to hide the panic that was settling in. "I told you that already, and you know that. Pretending like you don't know makes you sound guilty." Sherlock observed.<p>

Aria focused on keeping her eyes on the detective. If she let them wonder it would look suspicious.

"I am Aria Jones, my birthplace is right here in London, and I...paint for a living. Nothing more." Aria recited.

Sherlock looked her up and down. She kept her stance trying to look sure of herself. He studied her heavily freckled face and took in its features. Her lips were full and tinted pink. He then moved to her light eyes, but to do this he had to brush her long, wavy reddish brunette hair that came down to her waist. She tried to let him do this but her hand went up to grab his wrist.

"Sorry, but people don't touch me." Aria said calmly pushing back her own hair.

She let him study her features a bit longer. It didn't bother her. He did it the way she studied a masterpiece from Van Gogh. Not looking at it with lust but with interest. Actually she sort of enjoyed being viewed as a masterpiece rather than some girl to hit on.

"Almost done?" She asked with a bit of a smile on her face.

Sherlock snapped out of it and replied with a nod.

"Well thank you for stopping by and looking into my eyes with engrossment but I now have to get some sleep. I will see you later," Aria said. O_r hopefully never again, _she thought to herself.

Sherlock walked to the door without any disagreement. He was about to leave when a thought entered his mind.

"Ah yes, tonight around 6 you will be coming to dinner." He stated, "See you then."

Aria stood dumbfounded as Sherlock left. That was not a request or an invitation. That was simply an observation. If she didn't show up she'd look guilty. She knew she had to show up. Sherlock knew something about her and this was his safe way of figuring it out. She was trapped and the only option was to do as Sherlock said: Show up for dinner later that day.


	3. PART 3

**quick note: This chapter isn't as good as the last two (and I hope that my future chapters are better than this one)! Thank you for reading! Alright back to the regularly scheduled program :) **

Sherlock knew she was hiding something, but he couldn't figure out what. _Think, think! _He wasn't too pleased with not already knowing what she was hiding. He ran through the facts again and again.

She lied about:

• Her name (Aria _Vancooper _is different from Aria _Jones _which she said without stuttering which means she is used to the lie)

• Her job (She couldn't just be a painter. There was something more...)

• Her age (Though she didn't say anything about her age she showed obvious signs of trying to look older then she actually was)

This wasn't quite enough to go off of and he knew it. However that didn't stop him from being peeved when he couldn't figure it out. He stayed up the rest of the night trying to pinpoint what was off about her and didn't even notice John sit down in the chair opposite of him.

"How long have you been up then?" John asked blowing on his tea.

"Hm? What? Oh I didn't go to bed. I've been busy."

John nodded. This was a normal occurrence in the flat of 221B. John would sleep on his problems and Sherlock would stay up all night thinking.

"So I think I will invite Aria over in about an hour and tell her to come at 6pm." John finally said.

"Don't bother I've already done that task."

Taken aback would be an understatement for what John was feeling. Sherlock almost never cared about social events so John ended up plaining them. Never in his life had Sherlock actually invited someone over for a formal dinner...that is without a reason. Little did John know that Sherlock did, indeed, have a reason.

"So what should we have for dinner?" John asked.

"Hm, what?"

"Do you ever pay attention?"

"Rarely, you talk all the time and usually all I hear is: bla bla bla the military bla bla Sherlock bla bla." Sherlock said waving his hand to dismiss the question.

It took a lot for John not to swing a punch at him right then. Sometimes, most of the time, he had to restrain from maiming Sherlock. Not because he didn't like him but because Sherlock had a way with words that either made you sound important or like rubbish. There was no in between.

"How about we-" John tried to say, but was interrupted by Sherlock.

"How about _you_ go to the store and buy whatever people usually eat for dinner and I will stay here and set the table."

John opened and closed his mouth a few times before getting up and heading out of the flat. Sherlock was left alone to think to himself.


	4. PART 4

Aria paced across her small flat trying to come up with a reasonable plan. She had to go but that didn't mean she had to play along with Sherlock's game.

"What do you think Smog?" She asked her cat.

Smog looked at her with green eyes. Talking to a cat was unconventional, but it helped Aria think out loud. The cat had been her closest thing to a friend for the past three years, and why not talk out loud to a 'friend'?

"I cannot just come out and tell both him and his blogger that I am, indeed, an art thief. I'm positive that won't go over well." Aria lived the scenario in her head a couple times. Every time it ended the same way: will her in prison and with Sherlock on the cover of the paper-_again._

Aria continued pacing and coming up with new scenarios till she had enough. She had to calm herself down and there was only one way to do that. Aria walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She turned and took in the room, smiling.

Her bedroom was her trophy room. The walls were covered in stollen art and her room was covered in perfectly painted copies of masterpieces she was planning to steal. The room soothed her. Her artwork and famous pieces side by side like they should be. It was her own personal museum and studio.

Aria stole everything: Monet to Renoir. But she didn't keep everything. Since she was little Van Gogh had always been too good to lay hands on. However, she couldn't help herself, she just wanted to see his artwork in different lights. So one rainy night two years prior, she stole his Sunflowers and took them home. She kept the painting long enough to restore then she placed it back at the poorly security-ed museum. Since then it's become a hobby of sorts for her to steal Van Gogh's just to restore them. Never once has she kept one for more than a month. The best part of her hobby however, is the reaction of the police. For the life of them they cannot understand why someone would steal and put back artwork.

The clock struck four. Aria snapped out of her flashback and checked the time. If she wanted to do this and still get back she didn't have much time. She glanced over her room and picked the smallest canvas with her best forgery; A Rembrandt. She quickly changed into her right clothes and slipped out the door.


	5. PART 5

Aria brushed off her dress and fluffed her hair. This was it. Time for dinner. She lifted her hand to the door of the flat and froze. _You still have time to back away from this..__**No you don't! If you do Sherlock will know what's up...**__But if you go in there he'll find a way to expose you...__**but-**_

"Aria?" A voice called her out of her inner-dialogue. It was John, he had opened the door without her noticing.

"Sorry, I, erm, was thinking." Aria said keeping her voice from wavering.

"It's fine, come in." John said opened the door wider and she stepped in.

The flat was cramped but cleaner than her's. There were books and beakers everywhere. Cluttering the floor by the kitchen table mostly. Aria wasn't the only one who noticed the kitchen floor. John walked over to it heatedly.

"Sherlock! I thought I told you to clean the kitchen!" John yelled, "Sorry about this," He then said a little quieter to Aria.

Aria shook her telling him it was fine. Really it bid her more time to figure out how Sherlock was going to figure her out.

"I did clean the kitchen John. You told me to clear off the table so I did." Sherlock pointed to the mess on the ground. Aria opened her eyes wide. _All that was on the table?_ She shrugged. She couldn't judge. Her table was full of money off of the paintings she sold. Both original and forgeries.

"Ugh, Sherlock. You are the thickest genus I have _ever _met." John said waving them to sit down at the table.

They all sat while John pushed the junk on the floor over a bit. Sherlock sat across from Aria looking at her like he was trying to figure something out. Aria did her best to stay calm under the glare. All things considered she did fairly well.

Her age is what he couldn't figure out. She was clearly trying to look older. But she only looked about twenty-two. So how old was she really? _Why couldn't he figure this out?!_

"I'm sorry about Sherlock, now where were we?" John said finally sitting down, breaking the tension a bit.

"I was _just _about to ask a question." Sherlock said barely missing a beat.

Aria's heart skipped. She lived on the edge. She was used to being too close to people who could lock her up in prison for the rest of her life. But this, this was _wayy too _close. All she really wanted to do was run away. _You can't, _she told herself, _just make it through the main course. _

"Your question?" Aria asked cooly.

"When did you graduate from university?"

"I didn't go."

That got Sherlock no where. The room grew quiet with discomfort. John opened and closed his mouth a few times before he announced the main course. With one swift motion he retrieved the meal and placed it in the center of the table. The meal looked incredible. Aria let this distract her from the detective sitting across from her and began eating immediately. The food was just as incredible tasting as it looked. Everything was quiet and going well until Sherlock's phone rang...and rang. He looked over to John as in asking permission to take the call. The death stare on John's face answered the question quite clearly. However the phone kept ringing..and _ringing...and.._

"Oh! Just pick it UP already." John said giving in.

Sherlock answered it and what followed made Aria extremely uneasy.

Sherlock's conversation with the other line:

"Hello? Yes...ah...yes I do believe I have someone...yes you imbecile!"

Aria became smaller in her seat. This was not going to go well.


End file.
